Ace of Hearts
by Poncho D
Summary: A bizarre political situation and two troubled ex's; Tenchi never thought his job would land him in this spot.
1. Ace of Hearts

Chapter One  
  
"Stable to White Horse One-Zero, you are cleared to taxi. Proceed to runway nine-zero and await authorization for takeoff."  
  
"Stable, copy runway nine-zero", the young pilot replied, "White Horse out."  
  
The pilot let up on the wheel brakes slightly, and eased the throttles forward. The F-15 Eagle began its slow roll toward the end of the runway.  
  
At the end of the taxiway, he waited as the jet in front of him positioned itself, then screamed down the tarmac and into the dawn sky. Now it was his turn.  
  
"White Horse One-Zero, cleared for takeoff. Good luck."  
  
"Roger that, Stable." He gave a sharp salute to his ground chief, and pushed the twin throttles to the stops. The screech of the big turbofans came through his ejection seat as a muted rumble. At 200 kilometers per hour indicated airspeed, he eased the stick back, and the fighter lifted off the runway. Now passing three hundred kph, he yanked the gear handle up and increased his climb to fifteen degrees.  
  
At four thousand meters, Lieutenant Tenchi Masaki leveled his plane out and unclipped his oxygen mask. He took a deep breath. Even after three years in the JASDF, the Japanese Air Force, the ride into the sky on the F-15's enormous engines was never less than exhilarating. It made him feel sorry for the poor sods who were dumb enough to dope up, destroying their own bodies just for a few minutes of rapidly fading pleasure. Who needed drugs when you had this?  
  
Tenchi reached out and switched on the plane's radar, thinking about his path into the military. It was the last thing he had ever expected to end up doing. Hell, he thought with a smile, had it not been for a certain former space pirate, he would still be pulling up carrots on his grandfather's farm in Okayama. Ryoko Hakubi--expert pilot, Class-A criminal, and briefly his girlfriend, had sparked his interest in aviation by letting him take the controls of her starship once in a while. Okay, maybe driving a fighter jet at eleven thousand meters wasn't quite as much fun as cruising the stars with Ryoko, but it was still pretty cool.  
  
He looked over his right shoulder, and saw Lieutenant Kagara, his wingman, sliding into the number-two position. "Finished your first scan yet?" Kagara asked.  
  
Tenchi glanced at his radar screen: nothing. "Yep. Come on, let's take the next sector."   
  
"Roger." Lieutenant Tsuchida Kagara followed Tenchi through a 2-G right bank, and the two jets leveled out heading south.  
  
Tenchi smiled at the thought of how fate had played out in his life. Good old Tsuchida had followed him from his college years, through the academy and flight school, and now had ended up in the same wing with him.   
  
"Uh, Tenchi," Tsuchida said, "switch your radio to the wing frequency right quick. I'm hearing something about trouble north of here, up near Hokkaido."  
  
Tenchi looked in puzzlement at his instruments. What was going on? He switched to the wing's battle frequency, and listened closely to what snatches he could catch.  
  
"Air Defense Force Hokkaido...entering controlled airspace," he caught, "alter course immediately, and expect escort to distance of one hundred miles from..."  
  
Uh oh, Tenchi thought, obviously somebody had done something wrong, and somebody else was really burned up about it. An irate voice answered the call in a foreign language. What the...  
  
"White Horse Lead to Stable," Tenchi radioed to the controller back at base, "we're picking up unusual radio transmissions near Hokkaido Island, request permission to investigate." As he spoke the words, he flipped up the safety cover of the Master Arm switch.  
  
"White Horse flight, that's a negative. Remain in your patrol area. Hokkaido Sector air defense has the situation under control."  
  
Of course, Tenchi thought. Now he understood. "What do you think, Tsuchida?" he asked. "Sounds like they're playing around with our defenses again."  
  
"The Russians do that all the time," Tsuchida scoffed. "Bastards never learn."  
  
Evidently, Russian fighters were testing Japan's air defense reactions again, and F-16Js from Hokkaido had answered the challenge, chasing away the agile MiG-29s.  
  
Lieutenants Masaki and Kagara completed the rest of their patrol in silence, finding only two other aircraft, coming from the general direction of China, but nowhere near Japanese airspace. Probably a couple of those ancient Shenyang MiGs of theirs, Tenchi thought. When were they ever going to junk those rusty old things?  
  
-  
  
After going wheels-down back at Osaka, Tenchi and Tsuchida headed back to their quarters. Tenchi lay on his bunk, looking through his mail while Tsuchida fetched a couple of beers from the fridge.  
  
Suddenly, Tenchi sat bolt upright, the can his wingman had tossed bouncing uncerimoniously off his forehead. He rubbed the rising knot gingerly, still looking at the envelope.  
  
"Nice catch, Masaki," Tsuchida laughed. "Hey, what is it?"  
  
"It's from...Sakuya," Tenchi said, still staring at the envelope. He hadn't seen that girl in years.  
  
"Kumashiro?" Tsuchida asked. "You mean that hot little chick you were dating back in college?" He lay down on his own bunk, and gave a appreciative whistle. "Man, she could handle my stick anytime!"  
  
"Knock it off," Tenchi grumbled. He returned to the letter.  
  
"...doing alright, I guess," she had written, "...heard from some friends of mine that you're in the service, and I found out where you were stationed. Anyway, I have a favor to ask of you, and besides, I'd really like to see you again..."  
  
Tenchi gasped. You've got to be kidding me, he thought.  
  
"What is it, man?" Tsuchida asked.  
  
"It's Sakuya. She's coming here," Tenchi breathed. "to Osaka."  
  
-  
  
Late that night, he lay on his bunk with his laptop computer, typing out the after-action report from his evening patrol. It was blessedly easy; there had been no action to report, not even a few stray MiGs like on the dawn patrol. Still, it was difficult to concentrate, between Tsuchida snoring away on the other side of the room, and his thoughts about Sakuya. So, she was coming to the base to see him.  
  
Sakuya Kumashiro was one of Tenchi's assorted ex-girlfriends and, except for Ryoko, the only one he had been truly serious about. They had met in college, but were forced to break up when he graduated and returned to Okayama. It had been five years since then, and he had heard that she was married now, to a guy older than him, a police officer from Kyoto. Tenchi didn't mind, as long as she was happy.  
  
But what could she want? And why would her husband let her come all the way out here, to see her ex-boyfriend? It was a mystery he decided to think about later. He was too tired now, and too worried about what the morning might bring.  
  
The Third Fighter Sqaudron had been on high alert for more than two weeks, and like Tenchi, its pilots were mostly exhausted. Everyone was watching the news reports on TV, addicted to the flow of information, and chatting nervously about the political situation.  
  
The Asian War had started a little over a year ago, while Tenchi was still in training, and only lasted a few months. But it had left in its wake a nasty cold war between the former combatants, namely the United States, China, and North Korea. And very nearly Russia.  
  
The North Koreans had started it by throwing around what little weight they had, threatening the South because of Seoul's refusal to repatriate a group of infiltrators who had stolen valuable information. The Chinese, fearful of the American reaction if they supported the North, as well as the Russian reaction if they didn't, had decided incorrectly that Russia, with its thousands of miles of heavily armed border, was the greater threat. The North Korean army stormed across the DMZ, backed by thousands of Chinese regulars, and the result had been a short, bloody war between U.S. and Chinese forces on the Korean Peninsula, and in the western Pacific.  
  
The end had come when some merry-wag terrorist had taken it upon himself to trigger the launch of a Chinese ICBM at Seattle. The nuke had only barely missed its target, and thouands of Americans died in the blast.  
  
What the outraged administration on Capitol Hill had decided on, rather than the wholesale erasure of China from the face of the planet, was a limited response. A half-dozen cruise missiles with nuclear warheads were lobbed by submarine at Chinese military installations in the unpopulated region of the country. Cooler heads finally prevailed, and an armistice was signed.  
  
But even though the war was long-since over, politicians on both sides were still yapping at one another, and everyone was now seeking support from the biggest economic power in the region: Japan.  
  
Japan had refused, and now her ships and aircraft were being constantly harrassed by the Russians, the Chinese, the North Koreans, and even the Americans.  
  
It had to stop, Tenchi thought as he drifted off to sleep with the lamp still on, computer still buzzing away on his lap. If the other countries didn't knock it off soon, the war would flare up again, and who knew how many would die this time? 


	2. Queen of Clubs

Chapter Two  
  
The morning briefing was business as usual, other than being a little tense. "Good morning, gentlemen," Major Izuki greeted as the bleary-eyed pilots sank into their chairs. "Good, my ass," came one pilot's irate voice from the back of the room. "Can't we just go back to bed?"  
  
"Certainly, Mister Yataka," the major replied affably. "Would you like flight pay with that?"  
  
Tenchi grinned in spite of himself. Lieutenant Yataka was lucky the wing commander wasn't present for that remark. Operations Officer Izuki was the kind of guy who knew how to deal with remarks like that, without appearing to take himself too seriously. Yataka, though he was a great pilot, was the Third's resident clown, and Tenchi could only hope the man's flying kept pace with his sense of humor, or he would surely end up becoming "MiG meat."  
  
With Yataka silenced, the ops officer continued: "I take it you all heard about what happened near Hokkaido yesterday morning?"  
  
"Yeah, Ivan showed us his ass, and we kicked it!" Yataka crowed.  
  
"Yes. Russian fighters violated Japanese airspace in the north, and were promptly escorted home, thanks to the superb performance of our northern- sector pilots."  
  
Yataka muttered something about "damn F-16 jocks".  
  
"If we want to uphold that standard," Izuki went on, "we'll have to stay alert. The moment the Russians, the Chinese, or anyone else see our resolve weaken, they'll never let up on us. Here are your assignments for today: Masaki and Kagara, you guys are White Horse Flight, and you've got the south again. Yataka and Mitsugi, you are to orbit eighty kilometers north of White Horse, and cover their blind spot..."  
  
Izuki gave the remaining pilots their orders, leaving four of the squadron's twelve F-15s on standby, ready to takeoff at five minutes' notice if any of the patrols needed help.  
  
"Hey, Tenchi!" Tsuchida yelled, catching up with him as they headed for the shelters. "Better pray for some MiGs today, my man!"  
  
"What, are you crazy?" Tenchi demanded. "I don't want a war, and I sure as hell don't want to get blown out of the air by some guy with a rusty old plane and a lucky streak!"  
  
"Tenchi, Tenchi," Tsuchida tsked, shaking his head. "Come on, man, you know it's not just superstition. It's true: the more action you get up there," he pointed at the sky, "the more you get down here, if you know what I mean. So, when is she supposed to show up?"  
  
"Give it a rest, will you?" Tenchi grumbled. "I don't know. And she's married."  
  
"Ooohh, forbidden fruit is sweeter," Tsuchida said with an evil grin.  
  
"Get over it, you horny bastard," Tenchi laughed. "Don't you have a girl of your own?"  
  
"Is that jealousy I detect?"  
  
"Hardly," Tenchi answered as they approached the shelters. "See you at four thousand."  
  
"Need for speed, baby," Tsuchida said with a grin. They high fived, and set off to board their respective aircraft.  
  
-  
  
It was a beautiful day for flying. The sky was a rich, china blue. No pun intended, Tenchi thought with a chuckle. High, whispy cirrus clouds at fourteen thousand meters, a clear view and, thank God, no crosswinds. They made landing a thing of misery.  
  
The radar was crystal clear as well. Not another jet for hundreds of kilometers; the airlines were staying out of the way, lest some stray fighter jock have a temper tantrum and blow two hundred filthy-rich foreigners out of the sky.  
  
Tenchi had an idea. "Hey, Tsuchida, there's no bad guys up here. Bet I could whoop your ass."  
  
"You're on, you poor sod!" Tsuchida said, his voice full of mock offense. "Better get your virtual parachute ready!"  
  
"Won't need it," Tenchi bragged as he keyed his radio. "White Horse Flight to Stable, request maneuvering clearance."  
  
"Clearance granted, White Horse. But make it quick."  
  
"Roger that." He clicked his mike off, and buckled on his oxygen mask. It was time to play.  
  
"Alright, serparate on my mark," Tenchi ordered. Both pilots placed their hands on their twin throttles.  
  
"Mark!" Tenchi pushed the throttles around the safety barriers and into afterburner, eyeing his fuel gauge. The seat kicked him in the back, and the Eagle passed Mach 1 in seconds.  
  
He measured the distance on the radar screen, watching as Tsuchida's Eagle peeled off and headed in the opposite direction. The two planes flew away from one another, like a pair of duelers, measuring the appropriate number of paces.  
  
Now. Tenchi and his wingman simultaneously came out of 'burner and banked hard, until they were facing one another. They were now in "neutral" position, neither having an unfair advantage. When the other plane was right in his face, Tenchi jerked into a twenty-degree climb, trying to gain a height advantage on his opponent, so that he could use a split-S, rather than a speed-bleeding bank turn, to bring his nose to bear. He looked over his shoulder. Tsuchida--clever bastard!--had already thought of the idea first, and was in a vertical climb, several thousand meters above him, and fixing to come over the top in a classic Immelman turn. He had to be nearing a stall, Tenchi thought, but would gain all that speed back when he rolled upright and dove.  
  
Tenchi thought fast. Tsuchida's sights would be on him seconds. Okay, let's try a blow-thru, he thought.  
  
He banked hard left in a one-eighty, while Tsuchida was still completing his own manuever, and aimed the nose at a spot below his oppenent's upturned engines.  
  
Tsuchida watched as Tenchi's F-15 blazed by beneath him. Damn, he thought, as Tenchi came in again, at seven o'clock low. Too slow. He speed was too low to go back over the top the other way, so he completed the Immelman, went into a shallow dive and hit 'burner for a few seconds. Six hundred KPH, seven hundred, eight hundred...there, that should be enough. Six thousand meters. He pulled into a left bank, trying to out-turn Tenchi.  
  
Tenchi saw Tsuchida's nose pulling around toward him, and decided to pull one of his patented manuevers. Like Tsuchida had done earlier, he put the F- 15 on its tail and rocketed into the sky, careful to let his nose come just over the top.  
  
Oh no you don't, Tsuchida thought with a wicked smile, as he lowered his nose and punched 'burner. "Come on, man, you just showed me how to deal with that trick," he tut-tutted as he went zipping past underneath Tenchi's tail in a mirror of their first engagment.  
  
He looked back over his right shoulder, expecting to see Tenchi's plane receding, nose falling away as he prepared to roll out. What he saw caused him a pang of frustration. "And what trick would that be?" Tenchi riposted smartly. He was still in the vertical, speed down to three-fifty. He had started the climb with more energy then Tsuchida had, and was able to go back the other way. He did a snappy half-roll, pointing his canopy toward Tsuchida, far below, tipped back over canopy-first, and dove.  
  
"Damn!" Tsuchida cursed as Tenchi rolled out, gun pointed right up his tail.  
  
"Looks like drinks are on you tonight, my friend." Tenchi reminded him.  
  
"Yeah, well, unlike you, drinks won't be the only thing on me tonight."  
  
"Oooh, good shot," Tenchi crowed, concealing his burst of irritation as he pulled up alongside his wingman. Of course, Tsuchida was only kidding, but that one hurt. "Anyway, I don't do married women, unless they're married to me."  
  
"STABLE TO WHITE HORSE LEAD!!" Tenchi's radio screeched urgently. "Warning, warning! You have bandits inbound, at one o'clock!! Vectoring Black Pony flight to assist..."  
  
The message had not even finished when a strange aircraft went screaming right over his head. It had been too fast to get a good look at it, but the image Tenchi caught was one of twin tails and widely spaced intakes. It looked a bit like a MiG-29, but it was too big for...oh, shit. That was no MiG.  
  
"Where the hell did they come from?!" Tenchi demanded, watching the Chinese- marked plane turn back after him.  
  
"Radar clutter," Tsuchida grunted from under nine G's as he fought to out- turn the second jet. "Damn, these guys are good! Tenchi, get this son of a bitch off me!!"  
  
"Give me minute!" Tenchi shouted, weaving back and forth to spoil his pursuer's tracking. Why isn't he shooting? Tenchi wondered. He remembered that although Tsuchida now knew of his patented "Suckerman" maneuver, Joe Chinaman probably didn't...  
  
He kept his breathing steady under three G's as he passed forty-five degrees, now passing eight thousand meters. Nearing the vertical now, ten thousand meters. Over the top, twelve thousand, speed down to three hundred...come on, you bastard, I don't want to stall out.  
  
But his opponent *had* seen the maneuver before, and was orbiting below him, waiting for exactly that.  
  
Finally, the stall horn blared, and Tenchi felt a stab of horror as he noticed that his wings were not quite level enough for a clean stall. The left wing lost lift shortly before the right one, and the F-15 toppled over and tumbled uncontrollably out of the sky.  
  
The Chinese pilot watched in satisfaction as he trained his sights on the helplessly spinning plane. He had already engaged the safety on his ordinance, and had just slid his finger over the trigger when his headphones sounded a frantic "beeeeeeeeee..."  
  
He looked over his shoulder to see yet another F-15 with its guns trained on him. No flashes, but no sense taking chances, either. The Chinese pilot begrudgingly lowered his nose, without 'burner, and banked away, wingman in tow. You won't be so lucky next time, he cursed the JASDF pilot.  
  
"Black Pony Lead to White Horse Flight," Yataka's voice called. "Your bandits have bugged out. Are you guys okay?"  
  
"Negative, Black Pony," Tsuchida said quickly, seeing his friend still tumbling. "Masaki's in trouble, he's in a spin. Don't know if he's going to make it."  
  
Tenchi was joggling the stick frantically, his foot jammed down on the left rudder, throttle to idle. He prayed to Jesus, Mary, Budda, anyone up there who would listen, to get him out of this one.  
  
"Come on, baby, wake up," Tenchi begged his plane, still jiggling the stick back and forth. "Come on, come back to me, girl..."  
  
His prayers were finally answered as the plane gave a final shudder, and stopped rotating. He was now out of the spin and diving. He immediately took his foot off the rudder and centered the stick, applying full military power.  
  
"Tsuchida?" he called, looking about for his wingman.  
  
"Tenchi!" Tsuchida called back, voice full of relief. "Man, are you okay? That was close!"  
  
"Yeah," Tenchi breathed, "yeah, I'm all right." He ripped off his mask, and took great gulps of air, fighting back tears after his brush with death. He opened his eyes wide, as if just emerging from a long nap, and glanced at the altitude readout on the heads-up display. He had fallen from twelve thousand meters to just under three thousand in about sixty seconds. He nursed back on the stick, bringing the nose level.  
  
"Tenchi, we need to get you out of here," Tsuchida warned. "Come on, man, let's go home. Black Pony, take over the sector. White Horse Flight is headed back to the stable."  
  
"White Horse Two, roger," Yataka said as the four planes joined up in formation. He gave a perfunctory salute to Tsuchida. "Mitsugi and I have it from here. Y'all have a safe trip now, hear?"  
  
The two F-15 Eagles of White Horse Flight turned for home.  
  
-  
  
He sat bare-chested on the exam table in the doctor's office, feeling the freezing metal of the stethoscope on his skin. "You're fine," the corpman said, stepping back and removing the instrument. "Blood pressure's a little elevated, still coming down from the stress, but you won't need a mental evaluation or anything."  
  
"Gee, thanks," Tenchi grumbled. Why were corpmen always so bitchy?  
  
The young corporal was about to give Tenchi a piece of his mind when the door opened. Major Izuki had a video tape in his hand. "Twin tails, an easy match for the F-15, and the Chinese only have two of them," he said with an all-knowing look, as he handed the tape to Tenchi. "And no, it's not a MiG- 29. Three guesses."  
  
"Flankers?" Tenchi asked, looking worried.  
  
"Yep. The Su-27 isn't a new plane by a long shot, but compared to the rest of their air force, you can bet the Chinese think the damn things are a gift from the great Mao himself."  
  
Tenchi shook his head. Damn Russians. Their currency sucked so bad now, that you could get a top-of-the-line fighter jet on the black market for the price of a nice luxury car. Anybody who needed equipment had only to look as far as Moscow.  
  
Tsuchida's head appeared around the doorjamb. "Tenchi? Your *ahem* visitor is here."  
  
Tenchi immediately slipped on a shirt and left the room.  
  
-  
  
When he reached the base parking lot, not even the terrible experience just half an hour ago could dampen his spirits. He saw her emerge from a little red convertible, shades-encased eyes looking about.  
  
He waved, and when she saw him, she whipped off her shades and strode quickly over. They embraced heartily, and he looked at her as she stepped back.  
  
She was twenty-two now, and it showed. Gone was the scant, teenage figure of her college days; she now had a set of curves that rivaled those of the voluptuous Ryoko. He blushed, chastising himself for thinking that way about another man's wife. He glanced at her face, and saw she now wore a pair of little round turtle-shell glasses. She was dressed simply, in a sky- blue knee-length skirt, and a white t-shirt covered by a lavender crocheted vest. Tenchi thought wryly that she looked a bit like a high school English teacher in the throes of a midlife crisis.  
  
"Sakuya," he said fondly. "It's been ages!" He then noticed the bruise on her left cheek. "What happened?"  
  
"Oh, this?" she inquired, fingering the patch of purpleish skin. "It was just a...a car accident. Some guy rear-ended me yesterday, and I hit my face on the steering wheel. They said he was drunk, but, well, I don't know. He didn't have insurance. At least my car is hurt worse than I am."  
  
She wasn't kidding, he saw. The rear fender of the sleek, and no doubt expensive, Mustang was a mess of crunched-up metal, and the left tail-light was shattered.  
  
"So, look at you, a pilot!" she said proudly, fingering the little gold wings on his chest. "What do you fly?"  
  
"Fighters. F-15s, actually." Tenchi answered, hand on the small of her back as he guided her toward the base cafe. He stopped walking and gave her a mischiefous grin. "Want to see my ride?"  
  
"I...I'd love to!" she said, looked excited but a little dubious. "Will they let me in without any ID? I had to show my driver's license a zillion times just to get on the airfield grounds..."  
  
"*They*," Tenchi laughed, "are not there right now. Besides, once you get inside, things are pretty laid back around here."  
  
When they reached the shelter, Tenchi led her over to his plane. "They're not as big as I thought," Sakuya observed, running her hand over the rough metal of the air intake.  
  
"Well, actually, the F-15 is pretty big for a fighter," Tenchi informed her. "But no, you're right. These babies are a lot smaller than they look in the movies." He stepped onto the first rung of the cockpit ladder, and gestured to the canopy. "Come here," he said, offering her his hand. She took it, and he followed her up the ladder and helped her into the seat.  
  
Her eyes widened at the complexity of the instrument panel. She shook her head, chuckling. "Oh, good grief. How do you guys keep up with all this?"  
  
"Well, you kind of have to break it down," Tenchi explained. He pointed to a group of dials. "Right here are your basics. How high you are, how fast you're going, how much gas you have, and so on."  
  
"How do you shoot?" she asked  
  
He indicated the appropriate button on the control column. "But it doesn't work," he added, "unless you hit this switch first. That's the master arm, but the ground crew has to power up the system first. But enough about my job." He lifted her out of the plane, and set her on her feet. "Want to go get lunch?" he asked.  
  
"Well, I am hungry," she thought. "Is military food any good?"  
  
"Oh, I didn't mean that," Tenchi corrected. "I was thinking of a little place in town the guys and I go when we're off duty. What do you say?"  
  
"Sure!" she beamed.  
  
-  
  
The bartender, twenty-six-year-old Mihoshi Kuramitsu, was the reason the little pub outside of Osaka boasted such a large male clientelle. Her friendly, bubbly attitude and gorgeous body drew men like flies, espcially from the military base in town. Tenchi had even asked her out once, but been gently rebuffed. Mihoshi rather enjoyed being the unreachable one, and being able to flirt with all the guys without having to answer to anyone. Besides, she didn't date pilots. You gave them your heart, and they took it with them into the clouds, only to have both them and it vaporized by high explosives.  
  
Still, Tenchi would have been quite a catch, and thus she was not surprised when he entered her establishment with a pretty young brunette at his side.  
  
"Tenchi!" She hollered, waving him over to the bar. He and Sakuya each took a stool.  
  
"How's work, Tenchi?" Mihoshi asked casually. "And who's your friend?"  
  
"Work's great," Tenchi replied, "and this is Sakuya Kumashiro. We dated for a while back in college. Sakuya, this is Mihoshi. She runs this place."  
  
The two women shook hands, and Sakuya looked about nervously. "Is...there a restroom here?"  
  
"In the back," Mihoshi said, pointing to the door. When the restroom door closed, Mihoshi gave a Tenchi a sly grin. "You always did pick 'em well, Tenchi."  
  
"Very funny," Tenchi laughed. "And don't flatter yourself too much," he reminded her.  
  
"Oh, now now," she chided. "And that ring on her finger? You didn't tell me you had a fiancee."  
  
"That's because I don't," he corrected. "Her husband is from Kyoto."  
  
Mihoshi's face turned serious, taking on a worried look. "Tenchi!" she whispered, leaning in close. "You're running around here with a married woman on your arm?!"  
  
"No!" Tenchi denied sharply. "Well, yeah, but it's not what you think..."  
  
He was spared from further explanation when Sakuya returned. She gestured to an empty booth.  
  
"Scotch on the rocks," Tenchi told Mihoshi, "and a diet coke."  
  
He payed the tab, took the drinks, and followed Sakuya.  
  
In the booth, they sat in silence for a while, Sakuya looking glumly at the table. Making sure Mihoshi was not looking, lest the talkative barkeep get the wrong idea, Tenchi reached over and gently touched the bruise on her face. He felt the fine oil of makeup. So that's what she was doing.  
  
"That was no accident," Tenchi observed quietly.  
  
She shook her head, looking up at him with sad green eyes "Koga did it."  
  
"Your husband?"  
  
She nodded, and Tenchi's fists clenched beneath the table at the mental image of her pretty face, reeling as a big hand lashed across it. I'll kill the bastard myself, he thought. But for now, he would do whatever he could to help her.  
  
"You're staying at a motel, right?" he asked. "How much is it? I can spare about fifty--"  
  
"No," she interrupted. "I don't need money. I...all I really need is for you to promise me you won't let it get out that I'm here. If he finds me..." She let the sentence hang.  
  
"Well, my wingman knows; we're good friends. Don't worry, I'll keep him quiet." He gave her a deeply sympthetic look. "But at least let me bring you some groceries once in a while. Save yourself a few bucks, you might need them."  
  
She gave a humorless laugh. "No kidding. I'm going to file for divorce in the morning." She gave him a look that fell somewhere between a greatful smile and childlike fright. She took his hand, beneath the table. "Thank you, Tenchi."  
  
She stood, leaving her glass half-full. "I'll see you tomorrow." 


End file.
